De-Activate Kruger
by Invisible Ranger
Summary: What happens when everyone's favorite badass mercenary, Agent Kruger, is overdue for a vacation? Silliness and hilarity on Elysium, that's what! Oneshot.
1. Chapter 1

De-Activate Kruger

by Invisible Ranger, 2013

Disclaimer: Elysium and its characters belong to their respective owners.

Dedicated: To MauMauKa who encouraged this idea and gave me some great material.

"Will there be anything else, Madame Secretary?"

She was either too tired, or perhaps too distracted, to notice that someone was speaking to her until he repeated himself a third time. _Dear God, these meetings are getting too long. Or could I be getting old?_

Jessica Delacourt blinked and acknowledged her underling. What was his name again? "Pardon, Nguyen?"

"Tuyet, ma'am." So she was right with the Vietnamese name, at least. "I just wanted to know if the meeting were adjourned after all."

It was late. Most of Elysium was already in sleep mode. This was the fifth, or perhaps sixth, meeting of her day; compared to some of the Armadyne contract mess, these CCB bull sessions were almost leisurely. With any luck she'd be able to get to bed by midnight EST.

"Yes. Have the minutes archived and a CC sent to President Patel." Not as if he would bother to read them, but it was standard protocol, and she lived and breathed protocol.

Tuyet, along with the few other young undersecretaries in the room, looked nervous, like they all knew something she didn't. They looked like a bunch of children who'd been caught robbing the food production unit.

"What is it?" Delacourt snapped.

"There is…_one_ other item for the agenda, ma'am," said Tuyet, unable to look his superior in the eye. "I meant to bring it up earlier, but seeing as it's a sensitive matter for you…"

"Out with it!" She wasn't sure what she wanted more: a quick end to this meeting, a cup of espresso, or sleep.

Tuyet gulped. "It's Agent Kruger, ma'am. According to our databank he is overdue for his mandatory leave by about three years."

Delacourt laughed at this news. It wasn't a laugh filled with any sort of humor. It was the kind of laugh a condemned criminal heard before he died. It was the only kind of laugh she ever seemed capable of.

_Kruger. On a holiday, of all things. How is that supposed to work? Do we invite vicious dogs on holiday, or man-eating sharks?_

"He wouldn't have the first idea what to do on holiday, Undersecretary. His job _is _a never-ending holiday. I can't think of anything he enjoys more than what he does," she said, laughing that mirthless laugh again.

"He is technically an employee of the Civil Cooperation Bureau, ma'am, and thus is entitled to two weeks' leave for each year of his employment," Tuyet pointed out. He wasn't willing to let this matter go, but then again, he'd never had the unique experience of actually meeting Kruger before.

"Let him slowly de-activate, then, for two weeks or however long he needs. I'm sure his teammates can pick up any slack," Delacourt suggested, aware that this might not be possible. Drake and Crowe were followers. They needed a strong leader, and they'd be simply goons without Kruger.

"I'm afraid Mr. Drake and Mr. Crowe are due the same leave periods," Tuyet said, consulting his digipad.

Delacourt wished she had never hired such an insolent young man to work for her. "What do you suggest? I hear Bora Bora was lovely before the sea swallowed it whole. Perhaps we could send him to what's left of Greenland?"

"Ma'am, Elysium seems the only logical choice. I'm sure a week spent here might take the rough edges right off Mr. Kruger and his friends."

She made a mental note to fire Tuyet when she had a chance. Then again, who knew if he were actually working for Patel? She'd have to check his files to be sure. "When does this leave begin?" she asked, afraid she already knew the answer.

"Immediately, ma'am. We can't continue to violate our own labor laws."

"Very well. De-activate Kruger…but I hold you personally responsible for any of his actions, Undersecretary."

The smoky smell of the _braai_ made his mouth water. The fact that the spitted meat was, in fact, the late poodle of some poor smuggler's wife? It didn't really matter to him. Meat was meat.

Kruger stood on the rooftop of a shanty, long sword in one hand and a barbecue fork in the other. A ragged apron that incongruously read "Kiss the Cook" was tied about his waist along with half a dozen deadly weapons of various sizes. The sun was low on the horizon, just a dimly glowing orange ball through the thick smog.

His day had been almost boring. A couple of illegally modified ships, each carrying only a few passengers, blown out of the sky. Too easy. One very unlucky chop-shop guy whom he'd flayed to pieces with his knives. And the dead poodle's owner, who'd screamed for mercy before he finally finished her.

She'd deserved to die just for having such a stupid-looking dog. Kruger knew he'd enjoy eating the little rat.

Crowe and Drake were somewhere. He'd sent them out for some more _dop_. They'd already drunk their way through a few bottles, but they somehow always knew where to find more.

He almost didn't hear his comlink beeping over the sizzling of the meat. When he saw where the message was coming from, he frowned. What would they want at this hour?

"Howzit, my china?" he slurred into the device.

"Agent Kruger? Can you hear me?" The voice was a young man, some _domkop_ he didn't know.

"_Ja. _What'ya want, anyway?"

"Secretary Delacourt's orders are for you and your men to report immediately to Elysium for your mandatory personal leave."

Kruger thought about this for a moment. He'd only ever been up there a few times for rearmament and biorepairs, and never more than a few hours. "_Izit, bra_?"

"We'll await your ship at docking station D-9. You are cleared for two weeks of leave. Tuyet out."

The comlink clicked off. Kruger grinned. He didn't know much about life up on the _Grootwiel_, but he did know they had all the _braai_ a man could eat. And all the _poes_. Not like the ugly, diseased ones down here. He was going to enjoy himself.

He must have looked really demented, because when Crowe and Drake arrived back a couple minutes later, they exchanged a nervous glance. 

"What is it, _baas_?" asked Drake.

"We're headed up there, okes. Two whole fokkin' weeks, eh?"

The three of them whooped, the thoughts of gorging themselves on roast poodle and _witblitz_ all but forgotten. They were going to the _Grootwiel_. Up there it was one big party, and they were invited.

"Get the _Raven_ ready. We're going to have ourselves a real _jol_, eh?"

_To Be Concluded!_


	2. Chapter 2

_The Next Morning…_

Kruger stepped out onto the landing platform, followed by Crowe and Drake. The first thing that always struck him about the _Grootwiel_ was how it smelled. It didn't reek of smog and sewage and rot the way Earth did. His enhanced senses detected traces of palm, lavender, swimming pool chlorine, and, somewhere, the unmistakable scent of roasting meat. Prime beef, if he wasn't mistaken.

"Mr…Kruger, I presume?"

The kid facing him, a young Asian dressed in the white suit all Elysium admins wore, looked absolutely ready to shit his pants. He stood a good twenty feet back and, even backed by two security droids, seemed torn between forced politeness and complete terror.

"Howzit! Ag, man, good to be here!"

"I…I'd like to welcome you to Elysium." The young man's eyes flicked to the multitude of weapons Kruger wore strapped to his body. "I'd also like to apologize on behalf of Secretary Delacourt that she couldn't meet you in person, but she left this message for you." He pressed a button and Delacourt's holo-image appeared.

"_Bienvenue _and greetings, Agents Kruger, Crowe, and Drake. We hope you will enjoy your leave here on Elysium. A few rules and regulations must be adhered to for your safety. Please keep in mind only official security personnel may use weapons…"

The three of them snorted in unison. Like _that_ was going to happen.

"…and you are guests. We want your stay to be a relaxing one, and please know that our ways are very different from those you know below on Earth. Your villa is in sector 7-3 and everything you will possibly need has been provided…"

Crowe and Drake shared a grin. Everything meant everything up here.

"…should you need anything, use your comlinks or the holoscreens in your villa. Once again, enjoy your stay…"

Kruger drew his sword and immediately looked around, ignoring the rest of Delacourt's message. "So, _boykie_, who needs it up here?"

"Needs what? We want for nothing here on Elysium."

He laughed maniacally. "C'mon, bru, you must have _someone_ you need gone. That's why you brought me and my men here, _ne_?"

The young man seemed more confused than ever. "No, Agent Kruger, we have no criminals or smugglers or undesirables here. Your mission is simply to relax. Enjoy yourself! Your villa has a pool, a garden, and a library of over three million holofilms, I believe, and…what? What's the matter?"

He sheathed his katana and walked away, muttering darkly in Afrikaans under his breath. How much fun could it be if absolutely no one needed to be slaughtered, shot, or hunted down like a dog?

"Two syllables?"

Crowe nodded and proceeded to leap up and down.

"Springbok?"

"Ag, man, how do you always _know_?"

Along with his other senses, Kruger's mind had been enhanced. But now, he was simply bored, and starting to twitch. They'd been playing charades…charades!... for the past twenty minutes. Before that, Crowe had dug out the considerable contents of the villa's liquor closet and Drake had stumbled upon the previous occupant's stash of holoporn, which had been good for maybe half an hour. Beyond that, they were forced to find new entertainment.

It was, by any measure, a lovely day. The sun shone brightly through the artificially blue sky, and the weather was preset to a perfect 22 degrees. The three of them had stripped down to their shorts, unused to such luxury. Their armor and weapons lay on a tangled heap atop the pristine white couch in the cavernous living room. Kruger sat at the bench of a grand piano, holding a near-empty bottle of Scotch in one hand and plinking out "Jan Pierewiet" with the other.

He and boredom did not mix well.

"This is more _morne _than watching broken droids play rugby, eh?" said Crowe.

"What the bloody hell do they do up here all day?" agreed Drake.

Kruger smashed the empty bottle against the piano, making a _sproink!_ sound. Crowe and Drake, drunk though they were, flinched.

"I say we go visit those fancy _rooineks _next door, eh? Smells like they got some good _braai_. Probably wouldn't mind extra company," Kruger suggested, a wicked grin on his face. "I'm getting hungry."

They bolted for the door, all thoughts of charades forgotten.

"This champagne is splendid, Eloise. Wherever did you get it?"

Madame Eloise Fleury, the host of the party and owner of the sprawling villa, never got to answer her guest's question. In fact, she dropped the bottle in shock when she saw the three burly, hairy men, clad only in shorts, running across her lawn and laughing crazily.

"What on _Elysium_…"

Her other guests, all fifty of them, must have seen them too, because the chatter died down at once. The orchestra, who'd been playing Mozart, ground to an abrupt halt. Everyone started in open horror as the three pulled up, panting.

"Oi! Where d'ya keep yer _dop_?" Kruger shouted, helping himself to a handful of delicate finger sandwiches on a silver platter. One of the guests wordlessly pointed to an elegant champagne fountain with a carved ice swan. Kruger submerged his shaggy head and gulped.

"Not bad. Sort of bubbly, eh?" he said when he pulled out, and belched loudly.

"_Baas, _look, they got _biltong_!" Crowe shoved some of the meat in his mouth, ignoring a party guest's gentle protest that the meat (which was actually synthesized bison) cost well over three hundred credits per ounce.

"I wonder if those med-pods they got can cure _babbelas_? Or the _klap_?" Drake wondered, his words slurring.

"Why not find out? We're fokkin' _guests_!" Kruger speared a large prawn on the tip of his katana, which he'd refused to leave behind.

"Play some _lekker_ music, boys," he told the band, which, not sure what to make of this strange intruder, struck up a lively tune.

"Did _you_ invite them?" the champagne man asked Eloise under his breath.

"Certainly not. I wonder if this is some sort of drill? I'll ask the Secretary," Eloise muttered, and pushed her comlink discreetly. "Get me Secretary Delacourt…she'll know who I am."

The meeting droned on and on. When Tuyet interrupted this time, Delacourt was almost relieved. Almost.

"What is it?" she asked as the visiting Armadyne executive glowered from across the table.

"It's a Mme. Fleury, Secretary. She said it's urgent."

Though there were less than five thousand citizens of Elysim, she hardly knew them all by name. "Who?" Delacourt said.

"She said she went to the _lycee_ with you."

_Ah, _that _Fleury. Her name used to be Thiebault and she was always a simpering idiot whose father just happened to be rich. _

"Is there a problem, Secretary Delacourt?" the humorless Armadyne rep asked, eager to get on with the business of the day.

She smiled at him. "Certainly not. Please continue, Mr. Seifert." To Tuyet, under her breath, she added, "Tell Eloise she can wait."

_To Be Concluded in Part 3!_


	3. Chapter 3

"_O bring my trug na die ou Transvaal_…"

Kruger sang loudly and off-key, finishing the line with a thunderous belch. Crowe had wandered onto the dance floor and was drunkenly twirling a horrified-looking woman in his arms.

"You got any more'a that _lekker_ cream?" he asked, stumbling over to the buffet table and picking up his seventh glass of champagne. When he tried to drink it, he missed, sending it flying over one shoulder into the face of a tuxedoed man. Crowe started giggling like a little girl and dropped his dance partner.

The party guests, either too shocked or too frightened to leave, stood in a huddled cluster off to one side. These men had, in the course of twenty minutes, drunk almost all their champagne, engaged in something they called a "baffing contest," and relieved themselves on the manicured lawn.

They were crude, lewd, and socially unacceptable creatures in the eyes of someone like Eloise. But one of them was also carrying a long sword, so she thought it best to pretend she was having a good time.

"Wanna see what a real man looks like, _maisie_?" Kruger asked, rubbing up against her like a cat.

She had to admit, in some strange way, she did. Her husband, one of the many faceless junior admins on Elysium, was a pale, fragile creature. This man was well-muscled, hairy, and stank like some wild animal. In short he was everything she secretly thought about at night when Claude was still at the office.

Before she could give him her answer, though, Crowe pointed at something off in the distance. "Oi! Look, bru!"

A figure, a woman, a very _ugly_ woman, tottered across the grass. She was naked save for a flimsy medical gown and slippers.

Kruger momentarily forgot about Eloise. The new arrival was pale, scarless, like she'd just been bioreplaced. Then he noticed the eyes and started to laugh like a demented hyena.

"Ai, Drakey, what happened to _you_?"

He, who was now definitely a she, clutched at the flimsy gown. "So I went in for a spell in one of them med-pods, thought I'd get rid of my _klap_, you know how that stuff itches and all and, well, I think something went a bit wrong, _ne_?"

Crowe snorted. "I think 'e looks better with a _poes_ than 'e ever did with a _piel,_ eh?"

The two of them fell to the ground in hysterics.

"Check out _die lekker anties!_"

"_Hou jou bek_! I feel like a complete arse," Drake admitted, blushing under his new skin.

"I get first dibs breakin' her cherry," Kruger said. "Y'want it under the trees or maybe in the pool?"

"I don't want it bloody anywhere! I just want to be a chappie again!" Now he was really blushing.

While the three of them squabbled, Eloise seized her opportunity. She pressed a code into her comlink that she'd specifically been told never to use. Claude would get it and relay it to the highest possible authority.

Champagne was not cheap. And neither was her reputation as a good hostess.

"What is it, Undersecretary?"

"It's a Code Nine, Madame Secretary. From sector 7-3?" Tuyet seemed more nervous than ever.

Delacourt scowled. "Send a security team."

"We've tried. They're not answering. We think…somehow they've been disabled."

_There was only one man who knew that particular trick. And he was here. He was supposed to be on bloody holiday._

"Get my shuttle ready. And, Undersecretary?" 

Tuyet gulped. "Yes?"

"I want your resignation in hand by tomorrow morning."

Fifty-odd people were playing croquet.

It wasn't the usual kind of civilized Elysium croquet game. It had taken a good deal of swearing in Afrikaans, a few threatening gestures by Kruger's sword, and the even direr threat of seeing Drake naked to get the game going. Seeing as Kruger had already whacked the wooden balls halfway into orbit, he'd improvised with the severed heads of some of the capering cloned squirrels on the grounds.

"So, _Monsieur_ Kruger, tell me a bit about your job," Eloise said nervously, sending a squirrel head spinning off to one side. She was one of the only guests who'd had the nerve to speak.

He thought about it, belched, then answered. "It's _befok_, really. Lots of killing and violent deaths and all. Y'know, life couldn't really be any better." He grinned at her.

"Oh." She picked up the hem of her party gown and tapped at another head. "Do you get bio-insurance with that?"

Drake had gotten bored with the game and was flashing a group of young women. "Don't you know you want it, _bokkie_?"

"Oi, Drakey! Yer a _maisie_, remember?" teased Crowe.

"Right." He covered himself again.

Kruger was as happy as he could remember being in a long time. He had two more weeks of this to look forward to. He only hoped they wouldn't run out of champagne or those _lekker _little cakes with the cream before then.

"Can't this damned thing go any faster?"

The Elysium monorail was fast, perhaps 150 kilometers per hour, and Delacourt had never felt it go slower.

Sector 7-3 could have been on Earth for all the good it was doing her now.

Like everything else in this place, Kruger quickly tired of croquet, even if it involved hacking at severed animal heads. He had retreated to the enormous pool, champagne in one hand and katana in the other.

This place was beautiful and tranquil and even smelled of something other than garbage and rot. In short, it was everything Earth wasn't. This was where the ones with money came when they wanted to escape the horrors below. This was where no one ever got sick or old or useless. It was, as its name suggested, a kind of paradise.

It was boring as _pap, _really. No one needed to be killed (well, except for the squirrels) and there weren't even the usual skimmers to shoot down from the sky. Even the weather stayed dully constant.

"Hey, _baas_, I think I got a date," Drake called out to him. He'd found some awful feathery number of Eloise's to wear, and it made him even more conspicuous than the hospital gown.

"And it's me. I figure he'll have to go out with me since I've seen 'im naked. As a girl, I mean," added Crowe.

"Aren't you two missing something?" Kruger said.

They looked stupidly at him. "Like, a cozzie or summat?"

Before he could tell them what it was, someone else approached the pool. She was alone, appeared to be unarmed, and wore a stern expression. He knew her from somewhere, though where that was it was hard to say because of all the champagne he'd consumed. Kruger decided to wait for her to speak.

"Agent Kruger, what have you been doing here?"

Then it hit him.

"Look, okes, they sent me a stripper! And she looks just like that tight _poes_ Delacourt, eh?"

Before she could react, he jumped up out of the pool, and his lips were on hers. He tasted of champagne and sweat and pure testosterone. It was the first kiss of any kind she'd had in a very long time. She let him.

"Secretary Delacourt, what is the meaning of this?"

The kiss broke abruptly and she found herself face to face with a very annoyed-looking President Patel and his personal guards. His hovercraft floated like a wraith above Eloise's mansion.

"Mr. President! I'm afraid I…wasn't expecting your visit," she said, aware of how stupid she sounded. She'd just been caught red-handed; how would she explain this?

"I've been called out of a Level 4 security meeting to deal with your indiscretions. I hope you have a very, very good explanation for this."

"He was about to _fok_ the old bag?" suggested Drake a bit too loudly.

"Shut up, Drakey," Crowe said from the corner of his mouth.

Delacourt looked at Patel, who looked at Kruger, who belched again. Everyone was at a loss for words either from anger or shame or pure drunkenness.

"Please, Mr. President, let me explain."

It was Tuyet. Delacourt forced down a bit of absurd laughter. What was he doing here after she'd already dismissed him? Was he a spy after all?

"Young man, we were in the middle of a…"

"…long overdue high security drill," finished Tuyet smoothly. "I'm surprised it's not obvious."

"Of course. We couldn't notify you, or anyone else, because it was…"

"Secret." Delacourt could have sworn Tuyet winked at her as he completed her sentence.

Patel still looked vexed. "That doesn't explain what these mercenaries are doing here. One of my employees told me his lawn was, um, defiled this afternoon."

Tuyet was circling behind Kruger, Crowe and Drake as Delacourt quickly made up a story she knew her boss would believe.

"In the extremely unlikely event that illegals ever breached our perimeter, sir, these three seemed the best possible simulation without the real thing," she said smoothly.

"Y'bring any more beer, mate?" Kruger said with a loud hiccup.

"You see? Just like the rabble, without the risk. Agent Kruger is under my direct control. De-activate; security test complete."

What she didn't notice was the quick, almost unnoticeable thrust of a stunner Tuyet gave first to Kruger, then to Crowe and the feminized Drake. Whatever he had been taught at the academy was useful, because the three mercenaries tumbled to the concrete floor, harmless as kittens.

"I've been summoned out of my daily security briefing for a _drill_?" roared Patel.

"A very overdue, drill, sir," said Delacourt in as sheepish a voice as hers ever got.

"Please, Secretary Delacourt, don't waste my time like that again unless it is a real emergency. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to finish this afternoon. Carry on." The President turned on his heels and ascended to the hovercraft. As quickly as he had come, he was gone.

A few of the guests had wandered in, having watched the whole surreal scene from the veranda.

"Is he…unconscious?" Eloise whispered, nudging Kruger's prone form with one toe.

"Yes, Eloise. He won't be bothering you anymore." Delacourt was reminded of how much she hated this woman and her little-girl voice.

"What about damages, Madame Secretary? He drank all our Clicqot…"

"…smashed our ice sculptures…"

"…relieved himself, dear God, on the front lawn…"

Delacourt held up her hands. She had solved one problem only to find herself with a dozen more. She was about to suggest to Eloise that she file a claim through the Office of Defense when Tuyet spoke up again.

"Of course we'll compensate you, Madame. We never intended for this drill to go quite so, ahem, awry," he said, taking Delacourt by the arm as he did so and leading her poolside.

"I hope you have a very good explanation, Undersecretary, and I hope that it is less than ten words." She felt the color rising to her cheeks.

"Remember the Transvaal Free State?"

She stopped in mid-stride. That place, in the former South Africa, was where Kruger had been born and bred. It was, like most of Earth, now a scorched wasteland filled with shanties, drug traffickers, and weapons dealers.

"What about it?"

"Seems they're having problems with the Nigerian faction again and they called just now. They want their boy back, Secretary."

"For how long?" She thought she already knew.

"Two weeks, they think."

Delacourt was practically grinning, though she never actually grinned. "And did they pay up-front?"

It was Tuyet's turn to look proud. "They always do. They paid double since we send the best."

She looked down at Kruger and his men, who were no doubt dreaming of rocket launchers and maimed bodies. They'd be in their own personal paradise for this mission. The Nigerians wouldn't stand a chance, and she'd be getting a fat bonus on the side as she always did for Kruger's work.

"Undersecretary?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Remind me to give you a raise…"

"Where are we, man?"

"_Ai_, this is the worst _babbelas_ ever!"

Kruger opened his eyes.

A sky choked with smog and dull brown dust. The smell of decay and fetid meat left too long in the sun. Somewhere, in the distance, the unmistakable chatter of gunfire. The burned-out husk of an old truck at the side of a road.

His body, he saw, was clad in full battle gear. When he reached for his sword hilt, it was where he always kept it.

_How did I get here? Was there something in the champagne?_

If it really was a hangover, it was an interesting one, because he knew this place. Nobody had to tell him or show him a holomap. He was _home_.

Crowe flanked him on the right, and Drake, thankfully returned to his masculine state, stood on the left. Each held a Cousar in his arms and wore a predatory smile.

"Oi, look, men, we're home!"

The comlink in his ear buzzed. A woman's voice spoke the two magic words: _Activate Kruger_.

As the data download commenced, Kruger couldn't help but smile. These were going to be a fun couple of weeks.

_Fini_

_Stay tuned for more, including a Kruger origin story in the works!_


End file.
